Christopher Wey Chronicles
by jmd811
Summary: ON HOLD Chapter 5 is up and the tension grows as Wey heads to Washington D.C., trying to discover what he dreams are trying to tell him. And what he discovers will change his life forever, and fulfill his own destiny...
1. Awakening

The last thing I could remember was walking into my house. It was in August, I don't remember the day. Then I couldn't see. I was surrounded in a sea of permanent darkness. Then a wave of bright light overcame the darkness. Everything was hazy and distorted. I squinted as I lay on the ground, uncomfortable. What was I lying in? Rocks? Metal? I couldn't tell. I had trouble trying to pull myself up. I felt kind of stiff and had trouble moving my legs. What happened to me? Where was I? What's going on? Questions banged around in my mind as I tried to see and get up at once. I looked down and noticed I was wearing a hospital robe, stained with black burnt spots and ripped in some spots. I couldn't help feeling something was wrong. Everything was quiet. There was no sound. No cars, no humming of electricity… nothing. Just a slight breeze blowing by on the

I managed to stand up, kind of unbalanced. My feet were burning. The ground was scorching hot and my feet were unprotected from the littered Earth. I still couldn't see where I was. The light was too bright for me to open my drained eyes. As I stumbled around, I managed to see a pair of sunglasses on a body, badly decayed. What the hell happened? I looked around as my eyes seemed to become a little more accustomed to the piercing light. I was able to see a short distance and as I looked around, there were more bodies badly disfigured, burned and rotting. I felt the vile rising to my throat and I staggered away as fast as I could, almost tripping twice on large boulders.

When I was clear of the graveyard of bodies and rubble, I stopped and put on the sunglasses. The image that I saw couldn't be right. I was dreaming. It can't be. It couldn't be. My mouth hung open, I tried to say something but I couldn't mange to utter a sound. I stumbled to my knees, unable to process what was laid out before me. The only thing my mind could think was no. I became dizzy again; the world was swirling around me. I collapsed and I was once again surrounded by darkness.

The image I saw was nothing. Everything was gone… just gone. All that remained was a huge crater. The graveyard continued for miles. The entire world was a huge graveyard.

* * *

I woke up a few hours later. I was on some kind of bed, torn and worn out. It was a bit cooler here then earlier. Yet it was still hot, but the shade helped. It was now late afternoon. Then I heard a noise to my left. It was some kind of metal. I turned my head slowly to the left and saw a man wearing old, dirty clothes and was working on a table of some kind. I tried to call out to him, but all I managed was a cough. He heard me and turned around. He was young, probably in his late twenties, but looked like he was 10 years older. He had brown hair and had a beard and an ugly scar below the eye. It kind of reminded him Sergeant Blofeld from the old James Bond movies. He had tired green eyes and had dark bags under them, probably from lack of sleep.

He came over to me and said, "Don't try and talk just relax. You need rest." He put a hand on my shoulder and then something happened to me. I had never felt this type of feeling before. It was strong, powerful. I was propelled into somewhere, I had no idea where. There was a whoosh and all I heard was screaming. There was panic… everywhere. Everything was dark People were on the streets, shoving, yelling at people to get out their way. It was complete chaos. Then he saw him the man. No beard, no scar, trying to push through the crowd. There was fear in his eyes. He was leading someone in his hand; a woman, long jet black hair and stunning blue eyes. There were in the middle of a mob of people filling up the streets.

Somebody bumped into them, gun in hand. He spotted the woman's purse. He screamed at her to give him the purse. The man shoved him away, but the robber was too strong. He pushed him hard into the ground and pointed the gun at the girl, screaming at her to give him the purse. She couldn't move. She was so scared. The man tried to get up, but it was too late. A gun shot went off and the girl came down like a ton of bricks. The crowd around the scene screamed and backed away. The robber took the purse and disappeared in the crowd.

The man on the ground yelled, tears in his eyes, "Michelle!-"

And it was gone. He was back in the tent. Everything was quiet again. The man took his hand off my shoulder like he had just touched a hot stove, fear in his eyes. "What was that?" he asked softly.

I didn't know what to say. I had so many questions to ask myself. My throat was dry, but I managed to rasp, "Who's Michelle."

The man was shocked. "How did you…" He couldn't finish the sentence. Tears filled in his eyes. "My wife. She was killed right before the war started. How did you know? Who are you?"

_War? _What did he mean? I wanted to ask. But I guess I would find out soon enough. "I don't know. I'm Christopher… Christopher Wey."

Tears still in his eyes, he said, "I'm Reggie. Reggie Mason."

There was an awkward silence and then I said, "Where am I?"

He wiped the tears in his eyes and said "Baltimore. Or what's left of it, anyway."

"What year?" I urged on, desperate for answers.

Reggie gave him an awkward look and said, "2016."

This revelation hitme hard. "What?"

"Yeah… 2016. Where have you been?"

I was lost. What happened to me? "I don't know…"

Reggie gaveme a worried and concerned look. He turned back and reached for a cotton ball and dipped it in alcohol. "Hold still." He dabbed the cotton ball on the scrapes on my head. I squinted in pain from the stings. "Sorry. I have to clean the wounds or it can get seriously infected. The left side of your face is extremely scarred."

I didn't know what to say. That was the least of my worries. I still had so many questions that I needed to get answered. And since I woke up to this nightmare, only more questions have risen. I just sat back and let him talk for now.

"There's lots of sediment inside the wounds. I have to try and remove it."

"Are you a doctor?" I asked.

"I almost completed my degree and then this whole mess happened. Hold still." He continued to treat the scars on the left side of my face. After a few minutes of silence as he treated my face, he said, "Michelle was everything to me."

I glanced up at him. I felt that way about my wife once… a long time ago. He continued.

"I loved her like nothing else. Since that first day I ran into her at the library, I knew. She had the most beautiful eye and a smile that lit up the world. She was full of life. Better than I would ever be." He continued working on the scars. "Not a day goes by when I don't regret what happened to her. I think, it should have been me. I could have done something differently that day." He stopped working and went back to the table, cleaning his supplies.

After he went to the table, I used every ounce of my energy to try and sit up. I then said weakly, "There was nothing you could have done, Reggie. You did everything you could have done. I saw it. And I'm sorry." He didn't respond, didn't turn around. He just stood there.

I laid back on the bed, thinking about Madeline and Julia, about howI hadtreated them before this whole "mess". How stupid I was. What had happened to me? What's going on?I was so tired. I fell asleep thinking about the past…


	2. Punishment

It was still dark when I opened my eyes. The sound of bombs and gunfire in the distance woke me up. I lay there, listening to the sounds of screaming and gunfire and warfare; the sounds of the night of this new world. I have never felt such a sense of fear in my life. Nothing scared me more than the unknown. Not knowing what happened to the world I once knew. Not knowing what happened to my wife and daughter. Not knowing what happened to me.

I looked around and saw that the sun was about to break on the distant horizon. Reggie was already up, reading a book with a flashlight. I couldn't tell what book he was reading. I tried to quietly get up but Reggie noticed.

"You're up early," he said mildly without looking up from his book.

"Yeah, the sounds woke me," I said a little groggily.

"Those sounds keep me up every night. I got up some clothes for you. They're folded up in the corner."

I looked and saw some clothes folded neatly on the corner of the tent. I went over bent down and picked them up. There were boxers, socks, an old torn up pair of sneakers, a white undershirt, and a black overcoat. I changed into them and went over to Reggie. I could now see he was reading a Bible. I never read the Bible that much, only when I had to at church. Madeline had always tried to get me to read more, but I never did. Before I could say anything to Reggie, he had already started.

"'He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, "He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust." Surely he will save you from the fowler's snare and from the deadly pestilence. He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart. You will not fear the terror of night, or the arrow that flies by day, or the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, or the plague that destroys at midday. A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you'." He looked up from the Bible and straight into my eyes and said, "Psalm 91, verses 1 through 7."

He closed the Bible and looked down at the ground. "This is the only thing that gives me hope in this world without hope, in this hell that we live in. You can't trust anybody. It's all I've got left."

A bomb went off close to where we were. The ground shattered and the metal tools clattered against the table. Reggie stood up. "We've got to go. We've got to go now." He went and began to pack the tools in a backpack. Fear began to crawl up my skin.

"What's going on?" I asked, my voice breaking.

"They're here," he replied, fear in his eyes.

"Who's here-!" Another bomb, even closer, almost knocked Reggie and I to the ground.

"Go. Go!"

Reggie pushed me out of the tent, I started running, Reggie right behind me, dragging a little bit due to the backpack in his hands. Gun shots now ripped the morning air, screaming as they passed inches by my ear. I couldn't see the where the shots came from and frankly I didn't care. At this moment I just wanted to live. I wanted to go home, see my wife Madeline, my daughter Julia. I wanted to wake up in bed, finding this to be a bad dream. I wanted to go back to 2003, White Plains, New York. I wanted to wake up… About 20 yards ahead was an old abandoned car parked next to an alley. I knew it was our only chance. I ran as fast as I could towards the car. I reached the car, hid behind the tire for cover and looked back. I saw Reggie coming, right there about to reach me when he let out a scream and fell to the ground, the backpack lying between him and me. Reggie had been shot in the back near the neck, blood oozing onto his shirt. I grabbed the backpack and hid back behind the tire. I couldn't help Reggie, lying five feet next to me, unprotected. Gun shots hit the dirt inches from the car, clouds of dust climbing up from the dead earth. He looked and me and weakly, gasping for breath, mouthed the word "Go".

I didn't have time to think. Everything was happening so fast. I got up and ran as fast as I could towards the alley. I kept running, my heart beating like a timpani. I didn't have time to think, time to react. The scene seemed to last forever but it probably only lasted minutes or even seconds. I kept running, jumping fences, turning corners, opening doors and climbing windows until I finally thought that I was safe. I sat inside what was left of a small building, fresh out of breath, backpack clutched tightly to my chest in my white knuckles.

That was the last time I ever saw Reggie Mason.

A few hours, I was still sitting in the small building, in silence. The only sounds that could be heard were a couple of small fires out on the street and the wind blowing outside. The blistering noon day sun shined down on this barren wasteland. I stayed inside in the shade, huddled in a corner. I had never felt so alone in my life.

I stared at the backpack that was on the floor next to me. It was a navy blue, cheap backpack. I put it on my lap and opened it. I looked inside and saw the metal tools. There was some alcohol, a couple of cotton balls, and some bandages. There was also the Bible that Reggie was reading. I pulled it out and looked at the torn cover and opened up to the first page carefully, trying to prevent from ripping it. On the inside of the cover was a picture of Michelle, Reggie's wife; the same woman she saw when he touched me. She was beautiful. She reminded me of Madeline.

Hot tears began to roll down my cheeks. How could I have betrayed her the way I did? How could I have cheated on someone so beautiful? I hated myself for what I did. I was so ungrateful for what I had. I didn't realize what I had. I was blessed and I took it all for granted. I thought this must be God's punishment for what I had done. This is my sentence. My eyes dried up as tears continued to flow relentlessly down my face. I put the Bible in one of my pockets. Clouds began to form in the sky and covered the sun, turning everything into a dullish gray. The rain began to fall from the heavens.

I watched the rain fall from the heavens tothe dead earth.


	3. Ghosts

The rest of the day I hung around the building. There were small military stations around giving out food and water. The food tasted like garbage but I had to eat something. It was late afternoon now. The rain had passed and I stayed by myself in the small building, reading the Bible most of the time. Psalms was calming and kept me calm and helped ease my mind a little bit. A couple people passed by inside the building. They gave me angry looks as I passed by. Nobody seemed to trust anybody now. I didn't dare try and talk to some of the people. I just wanted to be left alone.

All I could think about for most of the day was trying to figure out what had happened to me. What I missed; one day I was walking into my house on an August day in 2003 and now… this. I left the building that night and started walking down the empty streets. There were gangs scattered throughout street, hanging around near garbage cans they used to light a fire in. I stopped at a torn down school where I found a small couch and that's where I stayed. I slept through the night well.

* * *

I woke up the next morning and walked up to the military station for breakfast. There was a small crowd. As I approached, there was some shoving and pushing and soon people were throwing punches at each other trying to get some food. The riot ended abruptly with a gun shot. The crowd stepped back as a strong man standing behind the table with food and water was pointing a gun in the air. The gun letting out smoke from the shot just fired into the air. The man was a giant, standing nearly at seven feet and very muscular. He had a 5 o'clock shadow and brown hair in a short military cut. His face was laced with anger.

He lowered the weapon and glared menacingly at the crowd. "What the hell is this?" he hollered into the crowd, his voice deep and full of authority. "Who started this?" he demanded the small crowd. They kept quiet. The military man walked out from behind the table and took one of the by the shirt collar and pointed the pistol between his eyes. "Was it you?" he asked in his face. The man was scared out of his mind and madly shook his head, unable to utter a word from fear. The military man tossed him to ground hard and he landed with a thud.

The military man looked back into the crowd. "Don't let this happen again," he said quietly and walked back into the tent. The crowd quietly and quickly picked up their breakfast and rushed of into the alleys. I reached the table, got my food and started heading back to the school. I finished the food before I reached the school and then I downed the small plastic cup with water and tossed it. Then I leaned against a pole that was in the back of the school and then it happened again.

The same thing that happened with Reggie happened again here. There was a whoosh and then the wrecked school morphed into a full school. The ground that was littered with boulders and trash was now a playground. The walls and streets were full of life and color. The pole turned into a basketball hoop and then kids started running around playing. Playing basketball and tag and jump rope and having fun. I started looking around confused. Then I saw a kid bouncing a basketball and then stopped and passed the ball straight at me. And as I prepared to catch the ball, it was gone. Just as quickly as it had come, it had fled.

Back were the littered streets and the dull gray atmosphere. The ball disappeared in thin air. The basketball hoop was replaced with the rusted pole and the children were gone. I looked down and saw a broken basketball, broken nearly in half. I picked it up and then it slipped out of my fingers. What happened? Was I seeing ghosts? That must have been it. That must be what I'm seeing. Ghosts. I must be losing my mind.

I decided to walk back into the streets and walk around. See what else I could I could find. What else I could see. I looked around but there was nothing. Nothing I could touch, nothing that was left to touch. Every where I looked there would be some kind of fight of some sort. Robberies, shootings, murder. At one point, I saw someone get shot because he had no money. The boy could not have been more than 20 years old. Everywhere I looked. I laid low and tried not to get in the middle of any of it. I didn't want a piece of it.

That night I fell asleep with an odd feeling. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. I lay there on the couch, listening to the sounds of the world around me. They never stopped. Nothing I did could drown out the noise. All I heard were the gun shots, the screaming, all the violence. I wondered how this could be real. What could have possibly ignited this nightmare? How could the world be left in this shape? How could it get this bad? Who caused all this pain and suffering? But I knew was that in this world with no future, there was nobody to answer my questions. This was a world full of questions with nobody left to answer them. No one left to fill in the blanks.

Next to me a fire kept me warm, the flames cracking and dancing in the night air. I tried to focus on the flame. I tried to drown out the world in the flame, melt all the sounds away, all the questions. I seemed to become lost in the flame. It was almost like being lost in the forest. Except that I wasn't scared. I wanted to be lost. I wanted to leave this horrible place and lose myself. Soon I was asleep.

* * *

And then… the dreams came…


	4. Too Perfect

Every night I had the same dream, the same nightmare.

A background of fire and a dark line ripped through the middle and seemed to gradually get closer and closer to me. The line seemed to try and take over the entire picture, engulfing the fire. The darkness covered the entire landscape. And there were flashes of fire and darkness. Like lightning in a bottle, they flashed in my head. I could almost feel the images shock me as they changed over and over, faster and faster. Soon the flashes gave way to one image. The image of Washington D.C. in flames, the Washington Monument covered in soot, the White House in flames, the entire landscape as far as the eye could see engulfed in flames and smoke.

And I knew they wouldn't stop until I went to the place that they kept showing me. Two weeks after the dreams started, I grabbed the backpack and left Baltimore. I began the trip to Washington.

* * *

When I arrived in Washington, nothing was really that different from Baltimore. There were more people here than in Baltimore, but there are the same riots, the same murders, and occasional gangs crawled on the streets. Everything was in shambles and destroyed in some way. The only way that I knew it was Washington was the landmarks that still had managed to stand after whatever happened had happened.

The streets were littered in garbage, graffiti on every wall that was still standing. People were yelling at each other and fights left some people unconscious on the floor. The hatred was so strong here. I couldn't believe such hatred was possible. I had to wonder how the world could get this bad this fast. I had never felt more alone in my entire life.

I walked on the sidewalks trying to find someplace to stay for the night. It was dark, the only light coming from fires that were lit inside garbage cans. And as I looked at the walls, I saw something pretty disturbing. I looked up at this wall, still intact, and the wall was covered in missing posters. As far as the eye could see, missing posters were glued and pasted on the wall. I studied the posters, trying to touch them to see if I could have gotten something from them like I had gotten before. Nothing.

I looked at the names. Erick Friese, George Heart, Fred Triton, the names went on and on. Then I noticed the dates. They were all dated 2015. Some were handwritten and others were typed, but almost all of them had the pictures of the person and they all had a reward ranging from the hundreds to the thousands of dollars. There must have been thousands of people posted on that one wall. As I began studying the dates again, I noticed 3/06/2015 appearing on almost every poster. March 6, 2015.The majority of the posters stated that they had gone missing were on that specific date. Some others were scattered throughout March or early April. What did it mean? What happened? As I continued walking down the wall, there were some other flyers posted. Two flyers, next to each other showed a handwritten palm with an eye in the middle. Above it was the name Johnny Smith, all in capitals, and below, the word "BELIEVE". Others demanded the death of John Smith and offered huge rewards.

"Death to John Smith!"

I instinctively turned around. It was an old man with dark eyes, angry eyes. They were piercing as they stared down on me. He was wearing old, dirty, filthy rags. He was standing on some kind of a platform.

"Curse him for all that he has caused! For this destruction! The false prophet of doom! May death fall upon him, and may he burn in hell for all eternity!"

People began gathering around and shouted in agreement at the words that he was saying. There were a few who disagreed with him, though. One man yelled from the small crowd.

"Don't talk about things that you don't know about, old fool!"

Another not to far from him added, "John Smith is a man who means good, a prophet! He is here to save us all!"

Soon yelling began as people seemed to disagree with each other. People began to shout and push each other and soon fist flew and a huge fight began to unravel in the middle of the street. I slowly backed away from the scene, backing into the alley. I hid in the alley, sitting in between a few cardboard boxes. I dropped the backpack next to me.

I heard the shouting from the alley and the fighting continued for several hours, deep into the night. Johnny Smith, I wondered. The name seemed familiar, but I couldn't seem to put my finger on it. Johnny Smith I repeated over and over again. I tried to sleep, but sleep wouldn't come.

I tried to think of Madeline and Julia. I went back to days that seemed like an eternity ago, before the hatred, before the gunfire, before the bombs, before this…

* * *

I was back in White Plains, New York. Home. I was sitting on the porch sitting with my wife. We were drinking lemonade. I made them for the both of us. I used to make a mean glass of lemonade. I sat back with my wife, sitting on the porch, I was holding her hand. I remember that day, that normal, August day. I was before we had Julia. We sat there for hours, holding hands. We never said a word. We didn't need to. The silence was beautiful. We were in perfect understanding. We didn't need to say a word.

We sat there watching birds fly by overhead in a clear blue sky. We watched the kids playing across the street, having fun. We watched the clouds roll by as the hours melted slowly away. We sat there all afternoon, her hand in mine,until the sun set into the horizon on that perfect day. That too perfect day…

* * *

And then it was gone. I looked at my hand and she was gone. I looked around and the porch was gone, the house, the sun. It was too perfect. I cried myself to sleep. The nightmare came back again, stronger than ever. The monument seemed to call out my name that night. Something was at that monument. I had to find out what. 


	5. Revelation

I woke up early the next morning. The sun wasn't up yet. For the most part, it was silent. The smell of smoke hung in the air for most of the morning from lit fires throughout the city. I began walking on the sidewalk, hands in my pockets, head down, trying not to draw attention. I was walking for about 20 minutes. The sun began to slowly rise on the eastern horizon; a blazing ball of fire rising out of the ashes. It began to light up the dark city, showing its true ugliness and the reality of what it had begun. The city seemed to have embraced the darkness and despised the light.

The sun was now clear of the horizon and sizzled as it began its steady ascent. I was now walking on what was left of Constitution Avenue. I walked down the abandoned street. No one seemed to have come here anymore. Everything was silent except for the bombs that went off now and then in the distance. I came up to where The Ellipse used to be. To my left, the White House, destroyed for the most part. To my right, the Washington Monument towered over everything in the dismantled city, watching everything. How I hated it now.

There was ruble all over the ground and it was hard to move around. I now stood directly underneath the monument. It was larger than I thought it would be. What could possibly be here, I thought. There's nothing left. I bent down and touched the ground and there it was again. Another whoosh like before. I was still in Washington, still at the monument, but now it was different. Everything was still intact. The ground was clean the glass was green, the White House was still standing, and the sun was shining on a brilliant afternoon. Everything seemed to be normal, but eerily quiet. Then I looked up.

A missile screamed as it pummeled down straight into ground about a mile away from where I was standing. The ground shook violently for a long moment and gave way to a deep rumble. I watched in horror as a wave of fire blasted my way and in all kinds of directions. I couldn't move and was helpless against this tidal wave of bleeding reds and oranges. I shielded my eyes as the wave engulfed me. I was now in a fiery furnace, no way out. I looked up and saw a horrific mushroom cloud quietly rise from the earth into the air. The cloud ominously loomed over Washington; fire was now in total control of the city. All hope was lost. Nothing remained, only memories. What was once the mighty capital of the strongest nation in the world now was reduced to shambles and ruins.

Then something caught my eye. It was something small and silver. Maybe round. I looked around and saw it briefly land in the rubble right in front of the Washington Monument. Then, with another whoosh, I was back where I was. I looked around trying to found what I saw. I tried scurrying around, feverishly searching for that item that was in my flash of the past. I dug through rocks and dirt and everything, scrambling to find it. I searched for about twenty minutes before I found it. I grabbed it and held it up. It was a cane head, small and silver, lines engraveddirty and kind of rusted. I looked around, feeling paranoid.I became more paranoid ever sinceI woke up.I stuffed it in my pocket and began to head back.

* * *

I went back to the alley and got something to eat at one of the military stations. They had them here too. They were more crowded here than in Baltimore. People now wandered the streets, walking around trying to get by. No one looked my way. No one cared about anyone here. It was an "everybody for themselves" world. There was no time to help anyone but yourself. It seemed like this world didn't have any Reggie Masons around anymore. 

All of a sudden I started thinking about Reggie. I hadn't really thought about him much after I left him there on the street to die that day. I never grieved him. I felt dirty about it. The one man who helped me out and I didn't even think about him. He risked his life for me, a complete stranger, of all people, in a world like this. I started thinking that I could have done something that day. Anything. I could have helped him, saved him. Instead I ran like a coward. He told me to, but I shouldn't have. I reacted, and I felt horrible about it.

Who were those people though? Army? Militia? I couldn't tell. I never got a good look at them. But clearly something was going on in the country. But once again, I had no idea what. I had all the questions with none of the answers.

And what about this John Smith? His name sounded familiar but I still couldn't place his name anywhere. He seemed not to popular around him. People hunted in packs throughout the day trying to hunt him down. They blamed him for what had happened. Some people defended him. Right now I didn't know who to believe or what to believe, for that matter. I was still lost and trying to search answers. Something big was happening, I knew it.

I went back to where I had kept the backpack and sat down. I couldn't sit down. I stood up and pulled out the cane head. I looked at it. Whose was it? And why would my dreams and flashes lead me to it? I shook my head and dug my hand in my pocket and as I was about to let it go and then-

A lightning flash and then I was propelled into a forest. I was standing in the middle of it. It was dark and windy, in the middle of a storm. I was standing on a hill surrounded by trees towering way over me and the branches swayed madly due to the wind. I just looked down and saw a dirt road. There were some cars and trucks carrying props and wheels and such. It looked like some kind of carnival. There was a group of people scattered on the floor by the lightning flash, some of the others were running around searching for cover from the storm.

Then I noticed something. A man, blond hair, looking straight at me about 30 yards away, I really couldn't tell. He was on the ground like a few of the others. He was holding a cane in his hand. Then at that moment, as our eyes met, it seemed like there was no one else. No storm, no carnival. And at that precise moment, it was just him and me. And at that moment, I knew who he was. I recognized him. He was a figure from my past. One of the last people I remembered before I woke up to this nightmare. His name hit me like a locomotive and I couldn't believe what his name was. Of all the names it could have been, it was this one name that seemed to be hated themost in this new world I lived in.

"Johnny Smith…?" I asked him almost in a whisper. He only gave me a blank stare, confusion in his eyes. The second after, a bolt of lightning struck straight between us and I was right back where I was before the forest. I was trembling with fear. I thrust my hand out of my pocket like I had just touched a fire. My hands were trembling. Whatever this was that was happening to me, what just happened was more intense than anything I ever had before. A small headache began to form in my head, lightly pounding in rhythm. It was a rush and I was afraid to touch the cane head again. But than as I though about the can head, I realized that Smith had the same cane head. He was holding it as I was holding mine. We could see each other. We _shared_ whatever it was. It was the most frightening thing I had ever experienced in my life. No kidding.

Smith. That name. What was this power that I seemed to have? What was it? Who was John Smith? Did he have this power too? This whole thing was confusing. My head began pounding louder and louder as questions poured in. My mind was a dam ready to fall apart. I looked down at my pocket. I shivered at the thought of the object that lay inside. I didn't know how important it was, how truly important that small cane head really was. The more I thought about it the more scared I became. I could feel its power from inside. I could feel a weird energy oozing around it, reaching out to me. I hesitantly reached inside the pocket and pulled it out.

I held it up and twirled it around in my hand, studying it. I felt it. Just touching it, I knew it was important. It was something huge. I could feel it. Then I was thrust into another vision. This one was different. It wasn't like the last one where I was literally somewhere; this one seemed to just show me something.

It was Smith. He was at a fair, walking with a woman. It was odd. I didn't know her. I never knew who she was, but feelings and emotions flooded in my mind. She was important to Smith. He really cared about her. Sarah Bracknell. She was everything to him. Then I was thrust a little further along. Smith was dropping her off at a house. It was raining now and he covered her with his jacket as they ran to the door, laughing. He kissed her and told her he'd be get some movies and be right back.

Then he was in the car driving on and empty road. A truck came into view, headlights blaring. Headlights soon filled Smith's eyes, and the truck's horns ripped the air. The truck hit him head on and caused a massive explosion. The car tumbled several times before coming to a stop on the side of the road. I moved further on.

As I continued to watch the life of Johnny Smith before my very eyes, it became a revelation.I began to realize what had happened to me. The more I got to know him, the more I knew what I had become. I realized my own purpose, my destiny.


End file.
